Mine
by Alligates
Summary: Merlin gets captured by some bandits. Of course, him being who he is, that isn't much of a problem. However, Arthur still needs to demonstrate his strength and power (and possessiveness), so he will, naturally, come to his absolutely-needed rescue. From prompt on tumblr: "You're mine." Incredibly mild slash, can certainly be read as intense platonic closeness if you so wish.


**What's this? Two long-overdue stories in one day? Yes, that's how I work, I'm afraid. No updates, just some old oneshots finally seeing the light of day.**

**Prompt from anonymous: "You're mine."**

**Yes, this one has some mild slash. _Very _mild. As in, you could just consider them platonic soulmates if you prefer that. Most of my writing falls into this category.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Merlin was not sure how long it had been. The bandits had come out of nowhere, but had disappeared just as quickly soon after the fight began—only they had taken him with them.

He was now tied to a short post in the middle of their camp, trying to figure out how he could inconspicuously use magic to free himself (that, or render everyone sufficiently unconscious that he could just_ leave_).

He was just going over possible spells in his mind when the leader strode forwards, stopping just in front of him and invading his air with the smell of sweat and alcohol. The bandit gripped the boy's chin, tilting it upwards so he could see without having to go through the effort of bending down.

The man cocked his head thoughtfully. "Well, well. You're quite a pretty one, aren't you?" A smirk broke through his words as his dirt-smeared fingers tightened.

Merlin fought back a wince. What did they want with him? Actually, no, he did not want to know. He went over more spells as the man strode away, taking his pungent odour with him, but he could not concentrate; not with the thoughts of what they were probably going to do to him floating through his mind.

_Come on, Arthur, _Merlin thought, looking around at the steadily darkening woods, _where are you?_

* * *

At some point near nighttime, most of the bandits retired to their tents, leaving Merlin with a few absentminded guards. He made quick work of them, and a few whispered words later they were all asleep at their posts, and Merlin ran for the deeper woods.

One of the guards fell over, and the resulting _thump _caused one of the bandits to stick his head outside the tent. His eyes widened when he saw the post, and the empty ropes lying around it.

"He's getting away!" he screamed in a shrill voice, catching sight of the warlock just before he disappeared in the trees. "He's getting away!" he cried again, and was nearly barrelled over by the other bandits as they ran past him.

Merlin sped up, but he knew he would tire eventually; he only hoped he could find his way back to the knights before then.

* * *

Merlin's legs eventually did give out, and he still knew not where the knights' camp was. In a fit of desperation, he had climbed up the first tree that was available to him, and was now sitting up among the higher branches, trying to quiet his rapid breathing. The bandits had come through just before he was out of sight, and were now milling about below him. One of them would look up and notice him eventually.

In fact, that is just what happened not a minute later, as one of them took a glance upwards and let out a shout of surprise.

"Oi, the tree! He's up in the tree!"

Merlin's heart rate speed up as the bandit leader looked up at him and let out a sound that was caught between a growl and a laugh.

"_There _you are, boy," the man said with an easy smile, as if it were all simply a game amongst friends. He placed a meaty hand on the bark, gauging the easiest route up the tree—it was not as though Merlin was going anywhere, in the meantime. The warlock felt his magic rise up inside him. The man stretched his grin wider over his stained teeth. "Don't be afraid now, you pretty thing, I'm not going to—"

That was as far as he got before he was rudely interrupted by a sword being impaled into his chest. The owner of said sword, one Arthur Pendragon, grabbed the bandit by the neck and held his face close to his own.

"He's _mine_," the royal hissed viciously, too quietly for the man in the tree to catch his words. And then Arthur twisted his weapon, eliciting a choked scream from the bandit, before he kicked him off the sword and let his body fall to the ground.

The rest of the knights had quickly dispatched the remaining bandits, but Arthur was more concerned with his manservant.

"Alright, Merlin, it's safe to come down now," he said, coughing slightly as he forced himself to sound normal and as emotionless as possible.

"Ah, right," Merlin said, and suddenly there was a heap of manservant landing in the leaves beside Arthur, nearly bringing him down as well in the process.

Arthur stared incredulously at him. "I meant _climb _down, you idiot!"

Merlin hopped to his feet, grinning widely. "I know. I just missed you."

The royal spluttered for a moment, feeling his face heat up, but he was confused. Did Merlin miss him… as in… _miss _him? Because that brought a warm feeling to his chest and a blush to his cheeks. The other probable meaning was, however, that Merlin had been trying to land on him, and had "just missed". This also made Arthur blush, for some inexplicable reason, no matter how much he would deny it if asked. It would make sense for Merlin to try the quickest way down, even at the expense of his own safety—though, he supposed, perhaps landing on another person would be considerably less damaging. He eventually came to a conclusion: Merlin had not "missed him." Not how Arthur wanted him to have, anyway. Arthur let out a small sigh, mentally dropping the matter. Merlin did not truly care for him; not any more than his job required. It was evident when he thought about it.

Merlin was smiling at the obvious commotion happening behind his master's eyes as he processed the answer. Eventually, as the wait became absurdly long, he had to prod the royal into motion.

"Come on, Arthur. We can't have the knights missing you as well, now can we?"

Arthur squawked for a moment as the meaning became clear to him.

Merlin _had _missed him, as in, _miss _him, miss him.

He continued to grin dopily even after his manservant had nudged him back towards the knights.

"You're mine," he murmured a bit later, when they were in the more relative privacy of their camp.

Merlin raised a confused eyebrow, but smiled at him still. "Well then, you're mine too."

Arthur grinned at him before putting on a stern face. "No."

Merlin frowned. "'No'?"

Arthur shook his head, grin slowly returning through his fake scowl. "No. I am the King of Camelot. I belong to no one but myself."

"And yet I belong to you."

"Of course. Everything belongs to me. I am the King of—"

"Goodnight, Sire."

* * *

**Wow, that is one big messy paragraph up there... quite unsightly... but no matter.**

**And yes, I am unable to make anything emotional and serious. There's always a joke at the end. (Well... usually.)**

**Thank you for reading!**


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